


Old Lies Die Hard

by swordfaery



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Mentions of Death, Second Person, and to those who arent his kids like steph and barbara who techncially dont live with him, because he is a good parent to his house of scoundrels, bruce wayne is good with kids fuck u, children coping with death, dc was like "what if bruce was bad with kids" and i ignored them, honestly dick is barely in this fic, its a short fic, not really like. a ficcy fic, so this is short, they arent in this fic, unsure how to tag it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:21:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28770021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swordfaery/pseuds/swordfaery
Summary: my working title for this was "its gonna be alright itll be alright cos thats just right even if you die itll be alriiiiiiight" which really does not fit the tone of this fic but i thought you guys would like to know.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Old Lies Die Hard

**Author's Note:**

> my working title for this was "its gonna be alright itll be alright cos thats just right even if you die itll be alriiiiiiight" which really does not fit the tone of this fic but i thought you guys would like to know.

“It’s going to be ok.” 

There is a man standing over you, his hand on your shoulder, and he is lying. But you’re eight and your parents just died and it’s cold out here so you don’t tell him to shut up. Then you find you don’t want to say anything at all. 

He ruffles your hair, the way your dad does, but your dad is dad and suddenly you’re fighting the urge to gag. The man realises something is off but keeps his hands in your hair. You don’t know why and you want it out, but you’re too tired to do anything about it. 

Years later, so many years later you’re a completely different person, the sort of person who stops cunts with guns, you see the same emotion you feel every time you think about that night on a kids face. He can’t be much older than you were, and he is the same mix of rage and fear and utter and total loss that you were. That you worry you still are. 

You want to put a hand on his shoulder and tell him everything will be ok, but that’s a lie and kids don’t need to be lied to. So you kneel down, wet ground seeping through your expensive trousers, and look him in the eye. “Hello,” you begin, and the boy doesn’t react, doesn’t even blink. You know the feeling. 

“My name is Bruce,” you begin, and then, because you can’t help yourself, “It’s going to be ok.”

Sometimes the old lies are the most comforting. Sometimes, with enough time, the old lies become the truth.


End file.
